


Trigger

by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)



Series: Sterek A-Z Challenge [20]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Clueless Scott, M/M, Protective Derek, Territorial Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 03:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10958907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasterella/pseuds/isthatbloodonhisshirt
Summary: Stiles got to his feet so he could use the bathroom, rubbing sleepily at his face. He’d been planning on staying for a while after the pack left, get a few rounds in before heading home since his dad was on the night shift, but he didn’t think he’d make it that long.Maybe Derek would be okay coming over to his place so Stiles could pass out without worrying about having to wake up in time to go home. Wasn’t like Derek hadn’t scrambled half-naked out Stiles’ window before.His dad still hadn’tactuallycaught Derek, but he knew what they were doing. He didn’t approve, but Stiles felt it was more the sex with a Werewolf in general as opposed toDerek.





	Trigger

**Author's Note:**

> Teen Wolf (c) Jeff Davis  
> Star Wars (c) George Lucas/Disney  
> Iron Man (c) Marvel/Disney

Scott was not the sharpest tool in the shed. Stiles knew this, and he had a love/hate relationship with Scott’s cluelessness. Sometimes, it was a benefit to him, and he thanked the higher powers that be for Scott’s idiocy.

Other times, like when he’d turned into a Werewolf and had insisted on going to a party, Stiles cursed his stupidity. He knew it wasn’t Scott’s fault, he had been gifted with adorableness and puppy eyes, not brains. That was why he kept Stiles around. Because Stiles was his brain.

This situation was something Stiles thanked the higher powers for Scott’s cluelessness for. After all, he hadn’t exactly _told_  Scott that he and Derek may or may not have been fuck buddies.

Were they even fuck buddies? Stiles wasn’t sure. He just knew one night he’d gotten home really drunk to find Derek in his bed, waiting for him so he could help him do research. Stiles didn’t think Derek _meant_  to fall prey to his advances, but apparently drunk Stiles was very good with his mouth—both speech-wise and _other_ wise.

Next thing he knew, it was morning and Derek was gone. He’d avoided Stiles for days, probably because he thought he’d taken advantage of a drunk teenager—Stiles was eighteen, he was barely a “teen” anymore. After hunting him down—okay, maybe Malia hunted him down and Stiles just guilted him into staying put—he made it clear that what had happened was fine. If anything, Stiles felt a little bad for almost forcing Derek into something he may not have wanted.

As it turned out, he _did_  want it, because Derek showed up in the middle of the night more often. He used research as an excuse, but after the fourth night in a row and nothing to ask of Stiles, it became fairly obvious he was just there for the sex that followed the not-research.

So yes, fuck buddies. Except fuck buddies didn’t usually get territorial like Derek did.

Stiles had borrowed a spare shirt from a teammate after Lacrosse after dumping lunch on his regular shirt and not wanting to wear his sweat-soaked Lacrosse shirt home. When he’d walked in the door to what he had assumed was an empty house, Derek had snarled and promptly ripped the shirt off.

_Ripped_  the shirt off. Literally. Right off. Claws and everything. Stiles had had to pay his teammate back for the shirt.

Apparently, for fuck buddies, Derek was possessive. He didn’t like Stiles being too close to people in a social setting where he wasn’t present, and he didn’t like Stiles wearing other people’s clothes. He also didn’t like it when other people touched Stiles.

Lydia had given him a kiss on his cheek after he’d saved her from a terrible date, and Stiles felt like Derek was trying to bite it off later that night. He’d been biting and sucking at the place Lydia had kissed him, rubbing his stubble painfully against Stiles’ cheek and being generally possessive.

Stiles got it. It’s a wolf thing.

Still, he felt more inclined to believe he and Derek weren’t fuck buddies. They hadn’t spoken about being anything else, so Stiles had just assumed fuck buddies, but maybe Derek thought they were—he didn’t even know. Dating?

Did Werewolves date?

What was he thinking, of course they did, Scott had dated both Allison _and_  Kira.

But Derek was… Derek. Maybe the more appropriate question was did _Derek_  date?

Something he was still mulling over, but back to Scott’s cluelessness. Considering all the sex, it wasn’t exactly a secret to the others. No one said anything, but Malia wrinkled her nose at him every time they were together, and even Liam always avoided being anywhere near Stiles whenever he was in the same room as him and Derek. It was like he was afraid of Derek’s wrath if he accidentally touched Stiles. Lydia was Lydia and knew everything.

Basically, everyone knew that Derek was fucking Stiles—and he loved it. The fucking, not the knowing, though he didn’t mind that, either.

But Scott was something else. He always made comments about how Stiles smelled a lot like Derek, and how he smelled like sex, but somehow he’d never put the two together. It was sad. So sad it was almost adorable.

Mostly sad.

Which probably explained why he was always so confused when Stiles sat down on the end of a couch and people kept steering Scott away from sitting next to him until Derek entered the room and took the seat instead.

It wasn’t a long pack meeting. They were just discussing what to do about the beta who seemed to be lurking around the area. Stiles had been giving his opinion, gesticulating as usual, and wondering why everyone was looking uncomfortable. It took him a full five minutes to realize it was because Derek’s hand was on his thigh.

Scott still hadn’t noticed. He was just nodding along to what Stiles was saying, trying to come up with a game plan. Every time he looked at someone, they gave him their full attention, but turned back to Derek and Stiles the second Scott looked away.

Stiles had to wonder if they all still considered Derek their Alpha. No offense to Scott, but Derek had been a good Alpha. Not that he wasn’t a good Beta, it just… didn’t suit him. He could turn into a _wolf_ , for fuck’s sake. Comparatively, Scott was kind of boring.

Not that Stiles would ever tell him that, because that was rude, and Stiles wasn’t rude.

Maybe a little rude.

Still, he didn’t get why the others were uncomfortable about the hand on his thigh until he looked at Derek and realized he was glaring at everyone, as if he thought they would try to steal Stiles from him.

Stiles decided it was time for a chat with him. He was getting crazy possessive, and while Stiles was okay with a super hot Werewolf boyfriend who was protective and wanted to keep him safe, if he scared away his friends, they would have problems.

When the meeting was over, they hung around for a while longer watching a movie. It was the second _Iron Man_ , which Stiles wasn’t too enamoured with, but apparently he’d been banned from decision-making when it came to movies after he’d made them all watch the fourth _Star Wars_  movie eight meetings in a row.

Who knew anyone could get tired of _Star Wars_?

Lydia and Malia were texting one another furiously throughout almost the entire thing anyway, while Liam and Scott chatted about the Lacrosse team and Derek glared at anyone who breathed in Stiles’ direction, so he felt like it was a waste of a movie night and they should’ve just let him choose. He was the only one actually paying attention, it would’ve been fair.

When it ended, Stiles got to his feet so he could use the bathroom, rubbing sleepily at his face. He’d been planning on staying for a while after the pack left, get a few rounds in before heading home since his dad was on the night shift, but he didn’t think he’d make it that long.

Maybe Derek would be okay coming over to his place so Stiles could pass out without worrying about having to wake up in time to go home. Wasn’t like Derek hadn’t scrambled half-naked out Stiles’ window before.

His dad still hadn’t _actually_  caught Derek, but he knew what they were doing. He didn’t approve, but Stiles felt it was more the sex with a Werewolf in general as opposed to _Derek_.

Washing his hands after having done his business, Stiles dried them on his jeans and pulled open the door, jumping when he found Lydia right on the other side.

“Jesus, Lyds, give me a heart attack, it’s fine. Didn’t need my ticker to work, anyway.” He rubbed at his chest, starting to squeeze past her so he could head back to the living room, but she put one hand on his chest and pushed him back into the bathroom, pulling the door shut behind her.

“Uh…” Stiles was pretty sure she didn’t need help _or_  supervision going to the bathroom. Once upon a time he’d have jumped on anything she wanted, even helping her use the facilities, but they were too close, now. She was like his sister. He still often couldn’t believe he’d once loved her as much as he had, it weirded him out now.

“We need to talk.”

Stiles hated those words. They always preceded something terrible.

“Do we?” he asked with a sigh. Maybe if he looked pathetic enough she’d let him leave.

He tried. Her unimpressed look suggested he failed. Dammit, he needed the puppy dog eyes Scott had, why did Scott get to have the puppy dog eyes?

Maybe because he didn’t use them that often. His ability to make everyone feel bad for him probably counted as a super power, and there was that whole rule. With great power, blah, blah, blah. Stiles would definitely abuse that power. He’d use it all the time if he could.

Like now. To get out of what was definitely going to be an unpleasant conversation.

“Yes,” Lydia informed him, casting a glance at the door before locking it. That didn’t bode well. “We do.”

“Is this about Derek?”

“No.” She stepped closer. Stiles felt like she almost looked nervous, but that was impossible. Lydia didn’t _get_  nervous. She was _Lydia_. “It’s about us.”

Stiles’ brain short-circuited, and not in a good way. “What us?”

“Us.” She motioned between the two of them.

Stiles balked.

She gave him a look. “We’ve been dancing around one another for a while.”

“We have?” Stiles was confused.

“And I thought that maybe it was time we stopped dancing and got around to _doing_  something about it.” She took another step closer.

Stiles took one back instinctively, towel rack digging into his back. Lydia just moved closer so that he was trapped between her and the wall—well, towel rack.

“Uh…” Stiles didn’t know what was happening, but he wasn’t sure how to address it. Anything he said would be bad. Oh so bad. Lydia didn’t take rejection well.

He thought. Maybe? Had anyone ever rejected her? Scott had that one time, but that wasn’t serious, she hadn’t actually liked Scott. Not that she liked him.

Wait, wasn’t she implying she did? Shit, Stiles needed to get out of this.

“What do you say?” Lydia asked, smiling a little. “Shall we give this a try?”

Stiles had opened his mouth to speak, but all he got out was a squeak before he and Lydia lurched away from the door at the same time. Stiles instinctively grabbed Lydia by the shoulders and flipped them around so she was against the wall, pressing her into it to keep her safe.

Only then did he see what the noise was.

Derek was standing in the corridor, holding the door in both hands.

He had to hold it in both hands because he had wrenched it _clear off the hinges_!

“Derek! Jesus Christ! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Stiles pressed one hand to his chest, heart jack-hammering against his sternum painfully. “Shit!” Then he remembered Derek had literally just torn the door off. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” he asked again.

Derek looked almost wild, eyes flashing blue and fangs threatening. His clawed fingers were curled against the sides of the door and Stiles was _so_  glad that they hadn’t had to meeting at his house like they were supposed to. His dad would _not_  have been happy with the ripped off door.

“Stiles,” Derek snarled, voice sounding off due to the fangs, “come here.”

“Put the door down,” Stiles insisted, motioning it. “What the hell, Derek!”

“Stiles.” He was using that warning tone he always seemed to use when Stiles was involved.

“Huh.”

Stiles’ eyes shifted to Malia, who’d appeared beside Derek. She was eying him with interest, seeming impressed with what he’d just done, and then peered into the bathroom.

“You were right. He _did_  figure it out.”

“What?” Stiles asked, dumbfounded.

“Told you,” Lydia said from behind Stiles. She was still clutching the back of his shirt hard enough to choke him, but she sounded perfectly calm. “Even Scott isn’t that dense.”

“What?” Stiles asked again.

“Derek, put the door down,” Lydia snapped. “What are you, an animal?”

“Okay, _what_?!” Stiles demanded, rounding on Lydia. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, calm down.” She rolled her eyes, but she was still gripping his shirt. She clearly wasn’t as relaxed as she was pretending to be. Stiles didn’t know why she was bothering because, yeah, Werewolves.

“We wanted to see if we could provoke Derek into revealing who you’ve been sleeping with because Scott’s so dumb,” Malia said bluntly from the doorway.

“Wait, what?” Stiles asked incredulously, looking between the two of them. Derek was still snarling angrily.

He was also _still_ holding the door.

“Derek, put that down!” Stile snapped impatiently, turning back to Lydia, more annoyed with her than Derek. “You did this on _purpose_? What the hell! What if I thought you were serious?”

“Please, you’re with Derek, not like you’d leave him for me.” Lydia gave him a look that dared him to contradict her.

Stiles was annoyed to realize he couldn’t, so he changed tactics.

“This was the best you could come up with to get Scott to figure it out on his own?! It didn’t occur to you that Werewolves are territorial and he’d get mad?” Stiles motioned Derek, who was _still_  holding the door, fucking Christ.

“I knew he’d get mad, I just didn’t think it’d trigger _that_  violent of a reaction.” She jutted her chin towards Derek, then scowled at him over Stiles’ shoulder. “Stop growling, I wasn’t serious, he’s all yours.” She shoved at Stiles.

He almost tripped over his own feet because of how he was standing, but managed to regain his balance before slamming into the door Derek was holding. He turned his head when he heard a whine from down the corridor and cursed, realizing that he had to go and deal with Scott now.

“Derek, put the door down!” Stiles insisted, almost desperate now. Seriously, couldn’t he have _one_  normal day?

Derek finally did as he was told, setting the door down beside the opening to the bathroom. He was still glaring at Lydia, eyes electric blue. “Get out of my apartment.”

“Gladly,” she said quietly, slipping past him. Malia gave Derek an annoyed look, following Lydia towards the front door. They both heard it open and shut, the two girls having left.

Stiles shifted his weight uncomfortably. He knew he had to go and talk to Scott, but Derek’s reaction was…

“So…” he said slowly. “Yup.” He popped the ‘p’ loudly, waiting for Derek to speak.

Which was stupid, because waiting for Derek to speak would be like waiting for paint to dry, except paint drying would happen much faster.

“That was violent.”

Derek just scowled at him. Stiles was too used to him scowling to be affected by it anymore.

“So I know we fool around and all that, but don’t you think that was overdoing it a little bit?”

More scowling.

“Okay. Well.” He motioned behind himself with both hands, pointer fingers aimed at the living room. “I’m gonna go talk to Scott.”

He’d turned to do just that when his arm was grabbed and he was pushed roughly against the wall. Normally he’d complain, but Derek was kissing him, and it was hard to think when Derek did that.

His lips pressed insistently against Stiles’, parting to lick at the seam until Stiles granted him access. Then Derek was just grabbing his face and trying to suck the oxygen right out of Stiles’ lungs with the intensity of his kissing. It was different than usual, almost desperate, and Stiles was struggling to keep up.

He could feel drool dripping down his chin. His or Derek’s, he didn’t know, but this was definitely not their sexiest kiss. Probably the hottest, though. Stiles was getting hard, which he really couldn’t be doing if he had to go and talk to Scott in a minute.

When he finally managed to tug Derek’s head away with a fistful of his hair in his hand, he gasped in oxygen like a starved man. Derek didn’t seem satisfied with being separated and immediately ducked down to lick and suck at Stiles’ neck, biting hard at his pulse.

“Ow, Jesus! Teeth! _Teeth_!” Even if he wasn’t an Alpha anymore, Stiles wasn’t interested in having to explain to his father—or anyone else, for that matter—why he had a perfect impression of Derek Hale’s teeth in his neck.

When he pulled away, releasing the pressure against his pulse, it was only so he could attack Stiles’ mouth again, teeth clacking painfully.

Just when Stiles was getting used to the intensity, Derek pulled away just enough to press his forehead to Stiles’, breathing hard. They were so close still that they were breathing in the same air, Stiles gasping in an almost embarrassed fashion with his legs feeling rubbery and his brain a little fuzzy.

Oh, and fully hard now, _thank you_ , Derek!

“You can’t,” he said.

“Can’t what?” Stiles asked, unconsciously rocking his hips against Derek’s thigh to get some friction.

“You can’t be with Lydia.”

Stiles’ hips stilled. “What? She was just joking.” She _was_ , right? Stiles couldn’t hear heartbeats, but it explained the texting between her and Malia.

“Doesn’t matter, you can’t. You’re with me. You’re with _me_.”

Oh, okay. So they were doing this. “I know.”

Derek’s grip on his sides tightened. “We’re not just fucking.”

“I know,” Stiles said. And he did, really. He’d known that there was the possibility of this being more, but he wasn’t going to press the issue so he’d just taken what he’d gotten. Something was better than nothing and hey, apparently in this case, something was actually _everything_ , so that was pretty cool.

“You’re mine,” Derek said, voice almost a growl, as if daring Stiles to contradict him.

“Yeah, yeah, put those away, big guy.” Stiles patted his back and shifted so that he could press another kiss to Derek’s lips while keeping their foreheads touching. It was cuter in theory than in practice, because it made their noses smoosh together.

“I mean it.”

“Yeah, I think I got that message loud and clear when you fucking _ripped_  the door off the wall.” He shook his head, pulling away as much as he could and pushing at Derek’s chest. “Fix the door, sourwolf. I need to go fix my broken friend’s brain.”

Derek glowered at him, but Stiles just winked at him, grinned, and turned to head towards the living room to comfort Scott on his obliviousness. Or maybe over the fact that Stiles was dating Derek, it was hard to know, really.

And if Stiles and Derek end up fucking all night in Stiles’ bed and the sheriff comes home early, well, that’s another hurdle for Stiles to overcome. But that’s future Stiles’ problem, because present Stiles is way too happy over the fact that he’s actually _dating_  Derek Hale.

Even if he had to go comfort his friend while sporting a boner.

**END.**


End file.
